How do I Know you're Not a Serial Killer?
by weestarmeggie
Summary: Hermione had had enough. Honestly, she'd been watching big burly men come in and out of the "shop" across from her niche little bookstore for the past few weeks and she was suspicious. It looked dodgy as hell - especially with men coming and going at all times of the day, sometimes well into the evening, and only ever one at a time. None of them ever showed up with friends or left


Hermione had had enough.

Honestly, she'd been watching big burly men come in and out of the "shop" across from her niche little bookstore for the past few weeks and she was _suspicious._ It looked dodgy as hell - especially with men coming and going at all times of the day, sometimes well into the evening, and only ever one at a time. None of them ever showed up with friends or left with another customer.

Sure they didn't seem to be hiding anything obvious when they entered, but the men - and it was **always** men, made sure to look and check that no-one was watching them every single time they entered the premises. Not to mention how they always looked relaxed and carefree when they exited, like they'd had something taken from them, a weight lifted from their shoulders.

 _It bothered her_. In fact, it bothered her so much that one wednesday evening she'd decided she'd had enough. She closed her shop and sat in one of the chairs that faced across the road, the door of the premises in question, directly in her line of sight and waited until the last customer she'd seen go in ten minutes earlier left.

It took another forty-five minutes, but she was out the door, locking up and crossing the road before she could stop herself. She hesitantly grabbed the handle, looked left, then right, snorted at the irony and pulled the door open, stepping inside and pulling the door shut behind her quickly.

Whatever it was that her mind had imagined she'd find, was nothing compared to the reality she was presented with.

A pastel blue waiting room with comfortable looking chairs, a coffee table with half a dozen magazines, relaxing ocean music playing softly in the background and a thin, pointy-faced, pale blonde who was lounging behind, what appeared to be a reception desk, and looking at her with such a look of distaste that Hermione actually shuddered.

"Can I help you?" he sneered, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Hermione steeled herself and crossed the room to him. "Yes" she said, crossing her arms over her chest as she came to a stop before him, "I'd like to speak to the manager."

He snorted and Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Listen he-"

"Draco?" a man asked and the blonde visibly jumped, dropped his legs from the table and stood from his chair. Hermione stifled a giggle and turned to see who had spoke, her mouth going dry as she took in the tall, dark haired man, wearing a plain white t-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders and a pair of loose grey sweats, striding towards her, "I'm sorry" he said, though Hermione could tell he wasn't sorry in the least, "I didn't realise we had a customer."

She cleared her throat, "You don't" she sniffed at him, meeting his gaze and refusing to check him out anymore than she already had, "I work across the road" she said, waving her hand in the direction of the door and resisting the temptation to pull her dress down as it hitched further up her bare thighs as a result of the action, "and I was curious as to what your business was. You don't have a sign."

The man turned to whom she presumed was Draco, "A sign. Damnit. I knew we were forgetting something," he smirked before turning his attention back to Hermione. "Well -"

"Hermione."

"Hermione," he said, smirking when she shivered at the way her name simply rolled off his tongue, "we're a massage parlor."

Hermione tutted and the man narrowed his eyes at her, giving her a hard stare, "You don't believe me?"

"Hardly. You only have male customers and they always look shifty, like they've got something to hide" she said confidently.

"Would you like a demonstration?" Hermione snorted, and the man stared at her for a moment before he turned to Draco. "You can go" he said, turning to glare once again at Hermione. They stood there in terse silence while the blonde gathered up his belongings and without another word left. The man, whose name she still didn't fucking know, turned on his heel and made his way back down the corridor before he turned again to find Hermione standing in exactly the same spot.

"Well," he started, "are you coming or not?"

"How do I know you're not a serial killer" she muttered petulantly as she stepped into the room he was indicating. He snorted.

* * *

She supposed he really was a masseuse when she saw the table, an assortment of oils he had on a stand beside it and a plethora of towels too. But she didn't really feel like she could just turn around and say "Whoops! Sorry, I was wrong you really don't have to give me a demonstration," when he closed the door swiftly behind her, shoved a towel in her hand and pointed her in the direction of the room separator.

"You can get changed behind there."

Hermione had swallowed her nerves and nodded. Now she was laid face down on the table, a flimsy pair of black knickers and a towel the only thing separating her from the stranger who was pouring sweet-scented oil over her back.

She'd never been more grateful to be face down when she moaned the second he moved his hands and began kneading her back.

"I don't even know your name" she muttered, groaning _again_ when he pressed his thumbs into her shoulders and began to lather more oil over her arms as he worked his hands over them.

"Tom" he rasped out, and Hermione was glad to at least hear that this was affecting him just as much as her. Perhaps _this_ was the reason she only ever saw burly men enter the premises, because clearly he wasn't used to having practically naked woman spread out before him.

Hermione hummed but made no further acknowledgement towards him. She was already tearing a cut in her lip from biting down on it in an attempt to stop moaning everytime his hands worked over a particularly _sensitive_ spot.

He moved onto her legs, and Hermione thanked every star under the sky and her incredibly annoying best friend Ginny, for dragging her to a waxing appointment earlier in the week. She shivered when she felt his hands grip her calves and then slowly work their way up her leg, his fingertips grazing her ass for barely a second before they were working their way back down her leg again. It was intolerable.

His hands were making her wish she could slip her own between the table and herself and play, but she couldn't even rub her thighs together without giving away the fact that she was practically dripping for it, for him. She closed her eyes and started to mentally go over the inventory of her bookshop, something she'd regularly done on nights she couldn't sleep - now she was doing it so that she wouldn't come, embarrassing both of them. She'd gotten through the C's when she felt his thumbs graze the edges of her underwear, as his hands worked her inner thigh and a moan so wanton escaped her lips that she had to grip the edge of the table so she didn't simply flip over and _beg him_ to fuck her.

He seemed to take the hint though, because he began to work on her back again, though his fingers were much more daring this time around, slipping under her rib cage and gently cupping her tits - his thumbs working the massage oil into her taut nipples. Hermione couldn't help it, her back arched and she moaned again.

"I need you to turn over" he murmured and Hermione whimpered as she took a breath and did so, her eyes fluttering open to see him staring at her with such an intense look of desire that she couldn't help herself, her knees automatically bent and her thighs clasped shut and began to rub together in an effort to do anything that would ease the ache that had settled between them the moment the first moan had escaped her lips. Her eyes caught him lick his lips as she did so, and then they drifted down his person and caught sight of the impressive erection that was tenting his sweats and she lost it - so did he.

They lunged for each other at the same time, Hermione sitting up to meet him only to be pushed back down as he leant over the table and kissed her, his mouth attacking hers as she attempted to tear his t-shirt off with one hand and palmed his erection with the other, before she slipped it under the waistband and threw her head back, moaning, as she attempted to wrap her dainty hand around his girth, settling for sweeping her thumb across the weeping head of it, growling and pushing him back so he was standing between her legs, cock bobbing in her face before she leant forward and sucked him into her mouth. Hermione didn't have much experience sucking cock, especially not one as thick as Tom's, but he was an average length and although she gagged a few times, she was able to slide him into her throat until she was nuzzling his crotch.

"Fuck," he hissed, winding his hands into her hair and helping her move her mouth along his dick, thrusting at the same time once, then twice before he pulled out of her mouth, slipped his hands under her oiled up ass, pulled her roughly to the edge of the table, practically tore her underwear away from her cunt, ripped a condom open with his teeth, rolled it over his cock and sank his length into her.

"Tom," Hermione sobbed, lurching off the bed as he snapped his hips back and forth like a man possessed. Her hands grappled to hold onto his arms and her nails dragged down them. He hissed and spread his hands over her hips to hold her down as he ruthlessly punished her cunt, his cock dragging back and forth against what she guessed to be her g-spot, for she was writhing and mewling beneath him like she'd never done before.

"Noooo" she cried out, when he suddenly pulled out, before she felt him flip her over and bring her ass back against him, his cock easily slipping into her cunt once again, as one hand found its way back to her hair and tugged so that her back was arched and he _somehow_ managed to slip even further into her, whilst the other gripped her ass, the thumb pressing firmly into her ass, easily slipping in thanks to the copious amounts of wetness her body had produced and the oil that he'd used earlier pooling between her arse.

The word "fuck" fell from her lips in a litany, and she thrust back against him harder, until both his cock, thumb and the finger he'd slipped in beside it had her keening. She came suddenly, a wail escaping her mouth as he too found his release, as her walls gripped and pulled and shuddered around him and he collapsed against her back, his sweaty chest pressing firmly against her equally sweaty back.

"Fuck" he muttered into her neck, kissing and licking her shoulders as he slipped out of her.

"I hope you don't provide that kind of demonstration for all your customers" Hermione snarked, rolling over and smirking up at him as he brushed her hair from her face, "and just where did you pull a condom from anyway?"

He snorted, and leaned down to kiss her, "Shut up, Hermione."


End file.
